Paid For
by SeasprayLuv
Summary: "Pony up, boy-o. You've just been bought." The phrase rightfully sends ice running through Gob's veins. He's heard it before, but it never makes it any easier. He's used to being berated and beaten, but little does he know that this time is going to turn out a little differently. (NSFW) Gob/F!LW


Paid For

* * *

Gob had been sleepily polishing the counter, listening to the relaxing lull of the radio when the back door to Moriarty's office swung open full force. The argument behind him between his boss and whomever was in there with him had been going on for almost two hours now. He tried to ignore the hushed voices behind him, eyes darting over his shoulder nervously as the voices grew. Suddenly the quiet bickering grows into yelling, a loud thunk, what he assumes was swearing and then complete silence. He hears a slight jingle as the old man slams his back door, and then steps out of his office.

His voice is beyond angry. Gob watches his eyelids twitch and the veins in his throat throb as he finally announces, "Pony up, boy-o. You've just been bought."

Gob feels his throat tighten up. Today had already been bad enough, but now this? All he is able to push out is a throaty, 'What?'

He can feel now, that the blood has drained out of his face. His hand tightens around the rag he'd been polishing the dingy bar's counter with moments before, eyes wide and fearful.

"Don't make me repeat myself boy, you know how I feel about that, so get your ass up those stairs. What's left of it, anyways. _Disgusting_ broad." he spits on the ground before starting up again, "What do I care though?" He jangles a heavy looking bag of caps as if to punctuate the statement. He seems to be in a better mood now, as a cruel smile slithers across his face. He walks back into his office, pausing at the door frame to make one final jab, "What do I care about crimes against humanity? Crimes against _God _even? Caps are caps, from the depraved or otherwise. Give her a good show, would you? _You know I don't like dissatisfied customers._"

Dread settles in the pit of his stomach as he sets the rag down. He swallows back bile as he nods. It's going to be one of _those_ kinds of nights. A shiver runs up his spine as he stares at the stairs.

He briefly considers making a run for it, but quickly dismisses the idea. He isn't fast enough to make it out, he knows that much after last time. The whole town would be looking for him before he even set foot out of the front gate.

The radio chimes an inappropriately happy tune as he slowly shuffles from around the counter, and stands at the foot of the stairs.

"Quit stalling." An irritated grumble erupts from the office.

_Easy for you to say. _He wants to yell back. _You're not the one who's about to have their ass handed to them by some angry drunk._

He wants to say it, but the words just aren't there. Fighting back never ends well for him.

Gob finds himself walking up the stairs numbly, fidgeting with his long, rough fingers. He reluctantly halts at his door, huffing a defeated sigh as his hand closes around the rusty old door knob. He opens the flimsy thing, closing it behind himself carefully. It's all that separates him from the world downstairs, and he wants to keep it that way for as long as he can help it. He settles onto his musky old mattress, struggling to hold back a terrified whimper.

He futilely tried to squelch the fearful anticipation gnawing at the pit of his stomach. No, it isn't the first time somebody has paid to have some 'alone' time with him. Perhaps it didn't happen very often -thank heavens for that- but each time left its mark. Last time, it'd been a very drunk Jericho with a rusty old switchblade. Before that? A raider he'd had to ask to leave the bar for starting a fight. He came back later that night with a bag of caps and a tire iron. Before that? A merchant who had a little too much jet, and was very handy with a screwdriver. Before that? He didn't remember. It was better that he didn't.

He'd seen his fair share of horrible instruments in the fifteen long years he'd been stuck in this hell hole. Razors, machetes, brands, cigarettes with their burning butts. Even the occasional busted bottle, still dripping with stinging alcohol. Every single visit left him a little more broken than the last. He trembled as he remembered Moriarty's comment.

A crime against humanity. A crime against God? _Who the hell _had he pissed off today?

His fingers instinctively trace the long, gnarled scars, trying wish them away. Thankfully nobody would ever notice them. Everyone may know what happens when he's paid a 'special visit', but after the bruises faded and the gashes filled in with fresh tissue his skin hides most of the damage. At least there is a little bit of dignity in that, he tries to convince himself. He only half believes it.

He's taken off guard as a soft voice called out to him, "Gob? Are you in here?"

He yelps, shooting to his feet. A sudden feeling of relief washes over him when he recognizes the voice, "Oh, it's you! God, you scared me!' He feels himself smiling, despite the circumstances. He can't hold back his enthusiasm, "I didn't know you were in town! It's good to see you!"

The young woman walks into the room. He can't see her yet, but he can feel her eyes taking in his meager home, no doubt with a distasteful frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She's told him before that she hates that Moriarty doesn't care enough to give him blankets that aren't full of holes, or covered in blood stains. Her head turns to him expectantly, walking a little closer.

He finally gets a good look at her as the room's dim light floods over her small frame. Her dark hair swept back into a messy bun, sharply contrasting with her blue, tired looking eyes catch. She looks over him, and expression between nervousness and concern as she bites at her pretty pink lips. She still dons her old vault 101 jumpsuit, but he can see that it doesn't quite fit her the way it used to. The wastes have robbed her of her softness and replaced it with calluses and muscle. It's a look, he thinks to himself, that agrees with her.

He looks away, mentally slapping himself for ogling.

He fondly thinks back to the day she'd stumbled into the bar.

She'd been one of the few people that hadn't screamed or hit him when she saw him. Instead, she looked at him, eyes bright with curiously and a warm smile blossoming across her lips. That smile. It was more potent than Jet on it's best days. Thinking about it now made him feel like he was freefalling.

A forced laugh tumbles from her lips as she finally meets his gaze, "Yeah. I just got back a couple of hours ago. I _actually_ came to see you." Her face turns a lovely shade of pink as she mumbles uncomfortably, " He hasn't been feeding you well, has he?"

He skillfully sidesteps around her question with a well placed shrug. His smile grows even larger as he ecstatically replies, " You came all this way just to see me?"

She nods, unreadable eyes darting over his body, and then away. She fidgets with her fingers, lips pressed together tightly.

The silence is almost unbearable.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you..." He starts, abruptly remembering where he is as the front door of the saloon swings open down below. His throat constricts, "Oh god! No. Um, Caroline, now is a really _really_ bad time. You need to go before Moriarty finds out that you're up here! I have... um... company coming." He pauses before bitterly adding, "If you can even call it that."

He finds himself staring at the floor, counting the grains of the wood beneath his feet. He can't look at her, knowing what would happen to him when his _client_ drunkenly stumbles through that door. He doesn't know how she isn't revolted by him now, but if he were to find out about this, what would she think then?

It was some time before she can muster the voice for an answer, "I know."

Gob shoots her a confused glance as she moves closer to him. He can feel the warmth radiating from her body as she stands above him with her lips in a tight line. She looks tired as her fingers graze a fading bruise under his eye. He can't look her in the eyes, but he can see the white knuckles of the fist balled up at her side.

He once again ignores the questions and venom in her eyes. "How?"

He pauses as she fidgets with her fingers, like she always does when she's nervous. She doesn't know what to say. He can see it on her face. Ice crawls in his stomach again. Maybe she already knew. Maybe that's why she couldn't meet his eyes. Suddenly it clicks in his mind. "What did Moriarty tell you?"

"A lot of things." She doesn't dare look at his face, but instead reaches out and grabs one of his hands carefully. The pain on her face is self evident, but from the look of things she's unsure of how to put it into words. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it again too quickly before the words could spill out.

His face burns with shame. He doesn't know what the old man has told her, but it's changed the way she looks at him. He turns his face away from her. "He had no right."

Her voice is tense. "Believe me, I know. That old man has a foul mouth. It's going to get him in trouble one of these days." She holds his hand, rubbing circles into his leathery skin.

"What did he say?"

Now it's her turn to dodge his questions. She shakes her head, as if trying to wake up from a particularly disturbing nightmare, "It doesn't really matter. Sticks and stones, right? I asked him to have you wait up here. Are you ready?"

It takes a moment for it to register, and when it does, his soul twists in agony. His eyes shoot to her as she holds his hands as if he might break.

He doesn't understand.

His throat feels tight, and his mouth tastes sour, "Oh."

Her face changes, looking at him in confusion, but she doesn't say anything.

He slumps forward, swallowing back a huge lump in his throat. He pulls a hand out of her grasp to scrub at the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. He can tell from the look on her face that this was not what she was expecting. Her eyebrows are knit together and lips once again turned down.

Surely, she couldn't expect him to smile and welcome a beating. He'd thought she was different. He had been so sure. He shudders slightly as he fights back disappointed tears.

Caroline's hands shoot back, dropping his like a poisonous snake, "I-I'm sorry." She stutters, eyes opened wide as her lips tremble, "I just... I... are you-"

He cuts her off abruptly, wringing his hands. "I should've known. Alright, what's it going to be then? I don't supply the knives, but I like to know what to be ready for." He walked across the room, grabbing a stimpack off of his dusty dresser with an air of indignation, "Switchblade? Combat knife? Or do you have something special in mind for old Gob?"

The silence in the room presses down on him, making him feel like he was smothering. he clears his throat, trying to alleviate the tight knot that's somehow gotten itself stuck there.

Caroline stares at him, face first contorted into a look of confusion then disbelief. She finally settles on a look of unadulterated horror and disgust as her hands fly to her mouth. He can barely make out the inaudible gasp that escapes her lips.

'_Oh my god. Oh my god, no. Please, no..._' she whispers over and over again, not daring to reach out and touch him.

"Why else would you be here?" He knows she must be disgusted by him. His chest swells with disappointment and ire, " You're finally ready to take out your frustrations on something that won't fight back, right? That's what you paid for. Go ahead and get it over with. I just want to be done with it."

His heart pounds nearly out of his chest as she stumbles toward him with outstretched arms. He wants to step back, to run away, but where would he go? Her frame collides with his and her hands roughly take hold of his shirt.

"No!" she half shrieks, "Fucking hell, what exactly do you think I'm here for?"

He can feel her tremble violently as her arms wrap around him and she holds on. He can't tell if she's trying to hold him or herself together, but she clings to him desperately. He can plainly hear the pain in her voice as cries into his chest. "_Oh my God_... _what have they done to you? I'll kill them all..._" She holds him more tightly, face nestled into his chest. He can feel the tears seeping through the threadbare fabric of his tee.

Once again, he can't seem to put together what's happening.

His eyebrows furrow as his mouth falls slightly agape, "What do you want then? I don't-"

His words are cut off by a soft, tearful kiss. It is barely more than a brush of the lips. She draws back, leaving him slightly dizzy. Her bloodshot eyes still shimmer with fresh tears. Tears he doesn't exactly understand. She looks into his eyes as she forces a small smile. He flinches slightly as a gentle hand caresses his face, scars and all. Her chapped lips met his again.

He hums quietly. Her weathered skin is still somehow unbelievably soft against his ruined face. He finds himself kissing her back bewilderedly, lips meshing together like the rolling waves of the ocean.

Suddenly, it clicks in his brain. She'd bought him for the night, hadn't she? "_Wait_," He breathes gruffly as they part, foreheads still touching. There were only two options to be considered, dwindling down to one if she didn't want to beat him. "Are you sure? You know, the rest of me looks just about as bad as this, " He covered the hand still on his face, "worse in some places."

The look in her eyes says she doesn't understand, but she nods anyways.

His heart soars. She doesn't want to beat him, cut him or burn him. She doesn't want to spit on him as he bleeds onto the floor. No, she's _bought_ him for the night.

He pulls her close, somehow unable to believe she'd paid to sleep with him. His breath puffs warm and sweet against her skin as he nuzzles his face into her neck. His lips lightly danced, carefully - always carefully- nibbling his way back up to her lips.

He feels drunk.

Somehow he finds them stumbling backwards into his bed and he guides her on top of him. Their kisses grow more and more passionate as he holds her closely. He is dumbfounded. He finds that his pants are quickly feeling a little too snug for comfort. He gasps when she brushes against him. He can't tell if it was an accident, but he does not care.

It had been ages since someone had touched him in a way that didn't leaves bruises or draw blood. Maybe, he ponders briefly as she brushes against him again - definitely on purpose this time- that he'd never been touched like this before. Somehow, he found that he couldn't care less as she whimpers into his mouth quietly, and God... he loves it.

He almost hasn't realized she's drawn back as her hands roam over his chest. Her eyes alight with a strange hunger roam as he suddenly finds his shirt coming off. He freezes.

It's one thing to touch him, and to kiss him. Hell, if she wants to fuck him, he knows he won't say no. He also he knows that he doesn't want her to see him. Panic swells up in the back of his throat, but his words are too late. "No, wait..."

She barely acknowledges his words. Instead, she greedily looks over his chest, circling against him again before shooting him a sultry smile that makes his cock throb, "Gob, you're just going to have to deal with the fact that I don't find you revolting."

"You should, smoothskin." He mumbles quietly as her fingers traced over his torn skin. She should be running away. She should be screaming, and perhaps jamming a stimpack into her thigh, but she can't be reasoned with. Soon, her warm lips assault his neck, gently sucking at his skin and muscle as he lets out a breathy sigh. It was almost too much to believe.

It was love at first sight the day she walked into the bar, shooting that warm smile just for him. He would've been lying if he said he hadn't fantasized about something like this, but it was never in the realm of possibility.

He swallows back a cry of protest when she moves away from the growing bulge in his pants, but falls silent as her lips travel a little farther down. She plants sloppy little kisses all over his stomach, leaving his skin tingling and too hot. He groans loudly as she toys with his belt buckle.

It had almost been a year since that first glimpse. She'd visit him every time she was in town, bringing him kind words, stories, rare snacks and strange trinkets that she thought he might enjoy. The memory surfaces as her hands struggle. He remembers the first time she'd touched him.

He'd accidentally brushed his hand against hers as he passed her a Nuka-Cola mixed with a little bit of rum, just the way she liked it. He apologized quickly, pulling his hand away.

"No, wait!"

He looked at her in shock as she reached out, fingers pausing above his own.

"Is it okay?" Her eyes were wide and curious as always. She bit her lip nervously, "I don't want to hurt you. It looks like it would."

He'd whispered that it was fine, and that no, it wouldn't hurt if her if she was careful. Her fingers whispered across his hand as light as a butterfly. Nova had turned away, looking slightly disgusted along with half of the bar's patrons. Moriarty shot him a dirty look. Gob didn't care. He'd gotten a pretty girl- a pretty _Smoothskin_ girl at that - to hold his hand. He didn't even care that night when Moriarty beat him because the register came up short. There's no way he could ask her for all of those caps, knowing how hard it was to find money. He'd just fallen asleep with a slight smile, wondering to himself if she'd ever do it again.

He's drawn away from his thoughts as the vault dweller eases his belt open, and then the button, and then the restrictive teeth of his zipper. He groans, knotting up his blanket in a white knuckled fist.

Up until now, he hadn't realized just how hard he'd gotten.

He hisses as she runs an experimental finger over his length. She looks up at him with wide, worried eyes.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Her voice, normally quiet and reserved was deeper now, with a husky edge to it. It sends a shiver down his spine.

He has a hard time making his mouth work. "God, no Caroline." he coughs horsley, "You're not hurting me."

He doesn't know how to tell her about the scarring between his legs. It may not be as bad as his face or even his chest, but he can't bear the idea of her looking at him. He finally finds his voice," It's not... _pretty_ down there. You don't have to..." His voice is deep and rough. He groans as she runs her hand over him again.

He barely manages one last plea, "I wouldn't."

Her eyes still hold that slightly nervous look, but her face is flushed. "Do you want me to? You can say no."

She doesn't seem to be able wait for his answer. Her fingers pull at his boxer's spent elastic, easing them down inch by agonizing inch. She bites at her lip, as if trying to hide a smile.

"I don't think I can." He hisses quietly as his cock springs into the humid air. She wraps a hand around him, moving agonizingly slowly. He tries to form words, but his mouth just hangs slack and useless as she pumped again.

How on earth was _she_ paying him for this?

He moves her toward him again, pulling her into a fervent kiss. She pumps his length again this time, a little harder. He swears, nipping at her lip softly. She doesn't know what she's doing to him. She can't know what she's doing to him, there's no way. He flips her over roughly, pinning her to the bed beneath him. He finds himself grinning as he looks at him with half lidded eyes and a flushed face.

"It's no fun if I let you do all the work."

His hands roam her body, unzipping her jumpsuit and pulling it off with skill that even surprises himself. Next, her tank and boy shorts. He roughly throws them to the side as his fingers linger over her superheated skin, settling near her petite breasts as his free hand snakes down, slowly working its way into the soft folds between her legs. His mouth tenderly sucks at her breasts one at a time, savoring each moan he draws out of her.

He finds himself thinking about the first time she'd kissed him.

One night, she'd wandered back in from the wastes particularly upset. She'd explained to him that she found her father, and the reason he'd left her was because he'd wanted to finish some science project he and her mother had been working on before she'd died. She finally admitted to herself that she hated him. She hated him for abandoning her. She hated him for not caring enough to tell her he was leaving. She hated the fact that he'd gone off to stay with Doctor Li, instead of taking care of her, and NO, she didn't care that it was childish. He was supposed to be her _father._ Even after she'd wandered out into the wilderness and saved his life, barely escaping death too many times to count, all he had to say for himself was that it's what her mom would've wanted. She looked utterly broken.

For the first time in the entire time he'd known her, she ordered a whole bottle of scotch. Turning him down when he offered her a cup.

Half way through the bottle, a pleasant rosy glow had settled in on her cheeks, and it was almost like things were back to normal. She told him about the wastes, super mutants and the time she fought a yao-gui with nothing more than a baseball bat and the pure adrenaline rushing through her veins. She enthusiastically pulled a necklace out from beneath her armor with a gristly tooth attached to it.

"You're one scary kid, you know that? I'd hate to get on your bad side."

"I don't think you could, Gob." She'd laughed it off, stuffing the tooth back behind her armor as she took another burning draft of her liquor. "You're too sweet."

It wasn't long before the bottle was empty. They sat together for a long time that night, her talking and talking and him listening contentedly until even Moriarty had to call it a night.

He'd leaned down to take away the empty bottle and she'd grabbed the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him in as she planted a soft, scotch flavored kiss right on his lips. She sighed before whispering in his ear, "I've wanted to do that for too long. You don't know how much I miss you when I'm out there. It's lonely." He'd stared at her, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as she left, walking up the stairs to her hotel room.

Nova had told him to forget about it. She warned him that the 'Vaultie' had been drunk. She explained to him that she probably wouldn't even remember what happened in the morning, or worse. She would remember and never talk to him again.

He still didn't know if she remembered it, but he knows one thing for sure. He'll never forget.

Her body tenses as his thumb brushed against her swollen clit, eliciting another intoxicating moan as she squirms beneath him. Her hand snake down his stomach until her fingers once again wrap around him, focusing on his throbbing head, "Ah, fuck..." he mutters against her chest, plunging his fingers deeper inside of her. She bucks against his rough fingers, whispering his name over and over again like a prayer.

He knows he doesn't deserve this.

He doesn't know how she manages it, but she flips him over again, onto his back. He feels her pull his pants off the rest of the way, throwing them aside carelessly. Her eyes are alight, burning with an intensity that sends pleasant shivers down his spine. She moves down now, lips growing closer and closer to the tip of his cock.

"Oh..." He groans as she wraps her lips around him, swallowing him farther and farther down into her mouth and then her throat. He grabs the blanket again twisting it between his clenched fists in blissful agony. She swallows him whole now, gagging when she goes a little too deep. He can't help but love it. "Please, don't stop." he hears his voice plead on its own accord as her head bobs between his legs.

His thoughts race overwhelmingly fast now, ebbing and flowing as her perfect lips move up and down his hard member. His foggy mind runs over every kind word as her tongue swirls around his head before swallowing him whole again. He thinks about every soft smile, every simple touch. How long had she wanted him? How _could_ she have wanted him? She is the hero from vault 101 - fighter of supermutants, beacon of hope to the hopeless and savior of the downtrodden - and him? He is just some ghoul. He is Gob, for fuck's sake. He hadn't had the luck of dying as a human when the bombs had fallen, he hadn't had the good fortune to become an adventurer when he'd left his adopted mother in the Underworld. His luck ended the day he was born. Instead of doing something with his life, he'd ended up here, in Moriartie's Saloon as a slave for a man who would beat him as readily as he would look at him.

All of this, he _knows_ makes him worthless. He will never deny that. Somehow, it seems like the only person in the wastes that can't seem to understand that was her. She has to be an angel, he thinks in awe. The angel of death for some, but for him she'll always be the angle of life and light. In some miraculous turn of events, not only does she treat him like a human being in spite of everything he is, she wans him. All of this crashes down on him so suddenly that it takes his breath away.

A breathless growl escapes his parched lips as he pulls her off, throwing her onto the bed. He kisses her roughly, hands frantically memorizing every inch of her body. His fingers plunge into her again and again, faster and faster until she is a gasping, moaning wreck, and he just can't get enough of it.

"Gob, please..." She begs, "Please, I need you."

He groans as the words fall on his ears, plunging his throbbing cock between her legs in one fluid motion. All at once, he is surrounded by tight walls and heat and _dear god, _she is so wet... his mind swims as he pulls back, thrusting again.

The thought of her needing knocks the air out of him. He thrusts into her again and again, and he knows he won't be able to stop. He finds himself dizzily thinking that that isn't how it works, and he wishes she could understand. She doesn't need him. No, he needs her.

She cries out, fingernails tearing at the sensitive patchwork that makes up his back.

He clings to her, reveling in the feeling of her body as they move together. She is slick with sweat, all moans and gasps and she cries out his name, and oh God, it is incredible. His thrusts become more and more erratic. He is so lost, lost in her scent, the hot, wet folds between her legs, lost in her voice as she chants his name over and over. He doesn't care if Moriarty hears them. He doesn't care if all of Megaton, or even the whole goddamn Wasteland can hear them. He _wants them to_.

He feels something welling up inside of him, and he thrusts harder and harder, fingers reaching down to Caroline's nub, desperately trying to pull her down with him. Her head falls back in a noiseless scream as her walls pulled him farther in, back arching up into him. He is close. He hangs onto her, one final thrust... and all too soon, he falls over the edge. He freezes with his face in the crook of her neck, barely able to gasp for air as he empties himself into her.

The is room filled with a contented silence, leaving him kissing her neck reverently. He rolls off of her, leaving them eye to eye, foreheads touching ever so slightly. Her eyes tenderly survey the spent ghoul beside her, a slight smile playing across her lips. He can't ever remember her being more beautiful.

"I've got a surprise for you," she says, moving off of the bed. " I don't think Moriarty ever explained _why_ I was waiting for you up here." He stares at the ceiling as she fishes around in the pockets of her vault suit, before uttering a triumphant, 'aha!'. She presses a slip of paper into his hands, snugging back down into his side "Go ahead, read it to me."

He flips the yellowed scrap of paper open, feeling his mouth grow slack. The words are foreign to him. He had to read it twice, no three times before he finally understands.

"Debt paid in full." His voice breaks on the last words, "150,000 caps." He finds her delicately wiping away happy tears.

"He won't be able to hurt you anymore." She says with a look of determination. "_Nobody will_. _I promise_."

"_Why?_" He manages to croak as he pulls her close, suddenly feeling like all of this must be some kind of dream.

"Because I love you, Gob." her voice is velvet to his ears.

Tear of joy roll down his face as he lightly kisses the top of her head, "I love you too."

* * *

Forgive me! I don't normally write things like this, but I got a little brave after browsing the fallout kink meme. Wrote it as a fill for a prompt that I haven't been able to find again. Sorry if it was horrible.


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